


It was Heroic!

by Daastan_Go



Category: Naruto
Genre: Big Brothers, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Drama, Family, Family Drama, Gallows Humor, Love, Other, Traditions, Tragedy, Uchiha Massacre, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 22:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20053588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daastan_Go/pseuds/Daastan_Go
Summary: He thought of his duty to the Village or Kin on that fateful day.





	It was Heroic!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's property. I'm not making any money from this story.
> 
> Warning: Morbid Content.

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Dawn burnt night away; it was a frail thread away from farewell; and it would come again, a pearl trapped in night's cobwebs; it was an easy meal—always. Mountain breeze, song-like and fragrant, hurtled at him. It was cool when morning was still yawning and waking and twisting in the sky, casting away draperies; who would want to see signs of decadence on a morning bride? No, she looked lovely when she was pristine!

And she pressed her attention on him, with dispersing light that hung low in front, like yellow forelocks! Whithersoever he looked, a remarkable glow appeared on the flora. He was bedecked with light—his sword worked in this bride's gold! This land had ascendency over the world and his heart. He was Fire's servant, a devotee of her dawn!

He was young, still one and three years of age; but even small size bore fruit, and he was born with a colder heart, which was big and roomy and silent. And when you looked through the armour, you saw passion of the deepest red. He was ready—to love, to fight, to die. This land would possess last bits of his spirit: it was made to be sacrificed at the altar of this land's will; he would not show it mercy.

And when night came down and soiled the coy bride for every eye's delight, he had left . . . remarkable signs everywhere. Not a face, a corner, or a wall was left without a sanguine farewell. And dreams were frightening and long, a gift for _his_ brother. He was small, but he would learn to love their operations and grow with them! Children grew up so fast!

Who were you—without the smile of mother, respect for father, arguments with brother? Adoration for mothers, fear of fathers, companionship of brothers—dripping in streets, unheard—their silence, a soothing melody. He made a clean breast of it before the rulers of this land, his _true_ keepers: he was not the hiding type.

There was a whisper of an absolute belief, and he had heard it whilst he was a budding little boy, touched a fist to his heart with force; and he heard it beat, saw the sky beat—like a flesh, a heart! Its eyes watching, blinking, peering at him and his soul. He would welcome the fate of a martyr—for to perish on the shrine of hope, a pillar of faith . . . was heroic!

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**The End**


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